A Little Dostoyevsky Before Bed

I'm exhausted. I realize lately that my body just doesn't work like it did before. It gets tired easier. And I can't just push through it like I used to do. It just reaches a certain point and then it GIVES UP. Period.

Also my belly is now officially ginormous. And I've officially gained way more weight than my other two pregnancies. AND I still have three more months to go! How is that possible???

I spent most of the day today preparing for the arrival of the much anticipated loft beds. We had to steal away Daphne's toddler bed/former crib to use for the baby's room, and Big Daddy thought she'd enjoy a loft bed (like a bunk bed but with no lower bunk). Then we figured if we got one for Daphne, Beck would be sad, so we'd better get one for both kids. It's time they moved up into big boy/big girl beds anyway.

They had perfect sized ones at Ikea, and at the right price, but BUTT ugly. Plain pine, plain natural stain, plain lines, and cheap plastic coated cardboardy inserts. Blech. Then Big Daddy found a local guy on Craigslist who custom makes loft beds for a very reasonable price. So we ordered two: one in white to match Daphne's white furniture, and one in cherry, to match Beck's.

In order to get ready for the delivery of the beds, I spent the morning taking apart the old beds. I unscrewed all the bolts, baggied and labeled them and taped them to the frames (all official-like). I carried Beck's frame, piece by piece, off to the storage room. Daphne's bed I carried, almost entirely in tact, up the stairs to the future nursery where I realized, just outside the nursery doorway, that the basement doors are about a foot wider than the upstairs doors and the crib wouldn't fit through in one piece. So there in the hallway I had to disassemble it, carry it through the threshold, and re-assemble it. ARG. Back downstairs to get the mattress, back upstairs to put it in the crib. Back downstairs to vacuum the areas under each former bed, back upstairs to put the vacuum away. Wash all the former bedding, wash all the new twin-sized bedding, fold it, carry it back downstairs, pack away the toddler bedding.

Then, finally, after weeks of waiting, the loft beds arrived and were...CRAP. The cherry one, which should have matched Beck's furniture, wasn't even remotely the same color. It was light reddish orangey brown, like a redwood-stained deck. But lighter. And looked unfinished--no varnish or polyurethane coating. And Daphne's, though painted white, was full of nicks and scuffs and was short a coat of paint in several places. Both were made of awful framing-grade wood, not furniture grade (pitted, holey, dinged, knotty). And both hadn't been sanded down! They were rough and scratchy and even had places where one might get a splinter!! I was so shocked by the color of the cherry bed, and so uncomfortable with confrontation in general, that I didn't say anything to the guy when he delivered them. But after Big Daddy got home and we looked the beds over, ran our hands (carefully) over the surfaces, and compared them to the pictures online, we decided we'd have to call the guy and complain. After having had to threaten to revoke our paypal payment when they hadn't arrived a week ago as promised, and he wouldn't return our calls and emails until Saturday, we were sure he wouldn't pick up and we'd have to put a stop on the payment and hold it hostage.

BUT the one silver lining is that he did answer the phone, he was apologetic and cooperative, and he is willing to take them back and try to fix them to our liking. I'm still a little worried about them coming up to our standards. I mean, if he is willing to give them to someone the first time with them being so awful, what will it take to bring them up to a standard that is acceptable to us now? AND we will have to wait another week+ to get them back again. SIGH....

SO...all that work to get things ready today, and the kids, who were practically in a state of hyperdrive all day in their excitement, had to go to sleep on mattresses on the ground, and I had to soak in the tub for half an hour to try to relax my pulled back muscles.

What I wouldn't give for 800mgs of Advil!

I know, sob sob sob. It's nearly as bad as Crime and Punishment. Sorry you had to relive AP English. (Maybe next time I'll offer some Cliff's Notes.)

10 Ways To Lose Your Tip

I went to dinner the other night. Granted, it wasn't a five star restaurant. It was maybe a 2 star restaurant if I'm lucky. But still, after waiting tables from Detroit to San Diego over the course of 9 years, I formed a few opinions about waiting tables. And one of them was that you don't have to be serving $45 Filet Mignon to do a good job. If you work for tips, you should smile, give good service, and treat your customers like they're eating at The Ritz. Unless they don't serve food at the Ritz. Then forget that analogy.

Anyway, the waitress who served us made about every serving error I can think of. And my sweetheart of a husband still left her a 5-spot. But I thought I'd share my thoughts about waiting tables and losing tips when I'M paying the bill.

If you want a good tip...

10. Don't forget to greet me, ask how I'm doing, and introduce yourself when you come to my table. It's a small thing, but a basic friendly greeting isn't so hard to do. And giving your name so I can call it out later when you are royally screwing up is key too.

9. Keep my drink filled up. I think most people would agree that nothing irritates them more than having an empty drink glass. Whether it's water or pop, just keep it filled. And don't ask me. If you see it's nearly empty, and I'm not walking toward the front door yet, just bring me another drink! As quickly as this will lose you your tip, keeping on top of my drink will increase your tip.

8. Check back on me shortly after the food is delivered. Worse even than having an empty glass is sitting there with a hot steak and no silverware to cut it with, or no steak sauce, or no ranch for your fries, or your side dish being wrong, or your side dish being missing...AND THEN WAITING FOREVER for the server to show up. When I worked at Appleby's, a singular nightmare of a job, one good thing they did right was require a 2 minute check-back on your tables. Within 2 minutes of the food going down, whether you delivered it or someone else did, you checked to see if everything was OK. This is a must.

7. Don't make me look for you. If I need something throughout the meal, I would hope I could catch sight of you within 3-4 minutes. If I don't, I WILL flag down your manager or anther server to go hunt you down, and that will be an automatic tip deduction. (No lie, at dinner the other night, I had to get up FIVE times to go look for something the server should have brought me/the server herself/another person to help me. That server should have owed ME a tip!)

6. As much as this may sound contradictory considering my last two points, you don't need to ask me how everything is EVERY time you pass by. One check back at the beginning, and a few visual check backs, where you look and see if I'm glancing around for someone or not eating, is all you need until the meal looks like it's winding down. I do like my server to be visible and available, but I don't like to stop my conversation every 2 minutes to say, "Yes, everything is STILL fine." You know?

5. When you refill my drink, please bring me a new glass before taking my old one away. It makes me very uneasy when you take the glass I'm currently working on (leaving me with nothing while you're gone) and bring it back to me. How do I know you're not going to accidentally mix it up with a total stranger's while you're in the back??

4. And while I'm on the subject, take my empty glass away. And my empty plates. You should never leave the table side empty-handed. Clear something away with each trip, and when you see that we're done, don't leave the plates to go get the check; take them with you! It's nice to be able to have some clear space in front of you after you eat to lean your elbow on or set your purse on while you look for your money. This is especially true of a buffet style restaurant or one with a refillable salad bar. If I'm going for my second round of food, I better not find my same plate there when I get back.

3. Don't be afraid to apologize. And make things right if things go wrong. I know, as does anyone who's ever worked in a restaurant (or anyone with any common sense), that a lot of the mistakes that take place with food are not the server's fault. If the food is slow, it means the kitchen is backed up. If the steak isn't cooked right, I don't blame the waitress for overcooking it. And if I asked for no sauce but it showed up with sauce, I'll give the benefit of the doubt that she ordered it right but the kitchen screwed it up. But regardless of who is to blame, it's the server's place to apologize and make it right. If it's a minor thing, have it remade. Bring a free app for me to nibble on in the meantime. If it's a big screw up, bring over the manager, have him apologize, and make sure he adjusts the bill. In all my years working in restaurants, I've never once heard a manager say, "I can't believe we had to discount that check." But I've heard many complain about angry customers walking out because they weren't treated right. Comped food is cheap, lost customers cost a lot.

2. Room for Dessert? I may say no, I'm too full, but knowing me I chose your restaurant because of the desserts, not the food. So if you fail to ask me if I'd like to see a dessert menu, you're not only losing out on a potential ticket increase, but potential tip too.

1. Check, please! Other than the frustrations of an empty drink glass or a wrong food order, waiting for your check long after you've finished is up at the top. It's not so hard to print out the check as soon as the customers have started eating so it's ready to give them when they're done.


So those are my restaurant pet peeves. And honestly, avoiding them isn't that hard. Smile, be friendly, communicate about problems, keep up on drinks and dirty plates, and fix things when they go wrong and you should find yourself with a nice big tip at the end of the meal.

Unless you wait tables in Utah. In which case, I'm truly sorry for you.

Hello Netflix

Blockbuster slogan 2009: "The end of late fees."

Blockbuster slogan 2010: "PSYCH!"



I'm Audi 500.

A Crazy Irrational Hatred For Birdsong

I am a night owl. Always have been, always will be.

Having young kids has forced this night owl to adapt to being a late evening-owl, however. I'd still rather stay up late and sleep in late. But I don't really get that option. And once sleeping in late wasn't an option, staying up late went out the window real fast too.

When I was in college I lived my ideal schedule: Stayed up until about 3am, slept until at least 10am, if not noon. It's true, I missed out on a good portion of the morning (and on rare days where I had to get up super early, say 9am, I noticed that the world seemed so alive and fresh and golden at that hour. And that I got a heck of a lot more done in a day too). But my body has always ALWAYS wanted to sleep in late, no matter how early I've gone to bed.

Back in those days, when I was a true night owl, my only goal for going to bed was to be in bed asleep before the birds started chirping (which was usually about an hour before sunrise.) That may seem like an obvious goal, to be asleep before sunrise, but at that time it was not at all uncommon for me to be awake when the sun came up. But nothing, NOTHING is so maddening to me, so irrationally irritating to the point of hysteria, as trying to fall asleep when the birds start chirping in the morning. I can't say why it is, but if I hear birds in the morning, I CANNOT go to sleep. Instead I get irate. I want to get up and find a sling shot and bring down every one of those sweet, darling, innocent little birdies. Or at least a big bull horn that makes really loud cat noises. That would scare them away, right?

Why does morning birdsong bring out this blind rage in me?? I'm such a peaceful, animal-loving, tree-hugging type normally. I mean, I'm practically Snow White in the afternoon! Usually all my little squirrel and deer friends bring me my lunch on the couch while the birds and mice press the buttons on the TV remote. (They tend to choose Animal Planet quite a bit). So where does this crazy blood lust in the wee hours come from??

I suspect it isn't so much a dislike for my fine feathered friends as it is a distaste for being conscious before noon. It goes back to the fact that I'm not a morning person. AT ALL. And that the birds chirping their little hearts out reminds me that it is about to be morning, a part of the day which my vampirish body violently shies away from. I don't know. I can't say why it is. But if I am up and start hearing the birds, I am filled with such crazy hatred for tiny fowl that I can only lie in bed fuming. And, you know, fuming is sort of counter-productive to sleep.

The other day one of my kids woke up crying in the night. About 5:30am, actually. I helped him find the potty, use it, get back in bed, and then flopped back in bed myself. And then came the sound I hadn't heard in years....the chirping and singing of happy little birds, getting ready to greet the sun.

Let me just say, it is a VERY good thing that someone invented ear plugs. 'Cause my husband has an airsoft gun. And I know how to use it. Kind of.

Yes, I am a sick, sick woman. I need bird-related therapy. What is wrong with me?!

What Day Is It???

For the past few years, I had made family calendars for both of my families (birth, in-law) in which all the members of the families' birthdays are listed, as well as anniversaries. And for each month, the pictures of everyone having a birthday/anniversary are on the facing page of the calendar. I find that it makes it easy to remember whose birthday is coming up when you see a big picture of them as you turn the calendar to the next month.

This year, I only did one for my birth family. Too many of the in-laws never got their family's pictures back to me.

I had the calendars printed in late January (I never get them done in time) and shipped off to each of my family members.

BUT I CAN'T FIND MY OWN.

And yes, it is April. I realize it's April, late April, four and a half months into the year, and I still have no calendar. Because I know there are at least one or two more copies of that dang calendar somewhere in my house. So I refuse to go out and buy a new calendar after all the work I put into making the family one. But it is driving me NUTS that I never know what day it is. Or can't write my appointments somewhere really obvious and visual.

Thank heavens for my iPhone. Wait.....now where did that iPhone go??

April Showers -- of Poop

I washed the cars today. Both of them. By hand.

Because it is April. And that is when The Birds arrive.

We have a spot in the he driveway that is under the overhang of a tree. The tree is WAY WAY up there, so you don't really see it or think about it. Until your car is covered with enough poop to make it look like it has been parked inside an aviary. For a month.

However, it actually happens within minutes of parking there. It's like The Birds hold their bowels all day, waiting for you to park and walk off so they can unleash a barage of excrement like napalm on Saigon.

But you can't really park anywhere else on that side of the driveway. Too far forward and you block the sidewalk. Too far back and you risk your car getting bashed by me the other person as they back out through the narrow gate.

So you park there and hope for the best.

(But your hope will be dashed by a ton of bird poop. Very shortly.)



So I washed both cars today.

And before I could get back around from the left side of the Mini Cooper, which I had just finished washing, to the right side, to dry it off, the right side had been shat upon again.

I'm considering taking up archery. Or poison-dart making. Or at least learning how to shoot small, sharp rocks through a straw. Because I swear if I see a bird sitting anywhere near the two cars that are huddled in terror over on the far side of the driveway, they are dead meat. The Birds, that is. Well, and the cars too, I guess. The Birds have deadly aim. And a steady diet of black berries and green slime, it appears.

.

Death To Carmike

You should know right up front that I do not wish violence against someone named Carmike. But I do wish a moderate amount of violence against a certain horrible movie theater.

It started last week when Big Daddy and I decided to go see Avatar in 3D. We had some free movie passes to a Carmike movie theater. They were a gift last year from some friends and they were going to expire this year on New year's Eve. So we had to use them, and soon. But we don't live anywhere near a Carmike theater. There is one in 20 minutes away in one direction. And there is one 30 minutes away in the other direction. There are at least 6 movie theaters closer, 3 of which you can get reserve seating for (the BEST INVENTION EVER), so we have no cause to ever go to a Carmike. But we didn't want to waste these tickets either, so we decided to head north and, since I had to get some lab work done at the hospital where I was going to have my procedure the following day, only a mile away from the theater, to kill two birds with one stone.

BIG MISTAKE.

First of all, the Carmike we chose refused to honor our gift passes. It didn't say anywhere on the tickets that there were restrictions on using them, but the girl said it would "screw up her computer" if she tried to use them for a 3D movie. Big Daddy offered to pay the difference between the regular movie and the 3D price, but she just wouldn't budge. So he ended up just giving his tickets to the person behind him and paying full price for the movie. AFTER WE'D DRIVEN HALF AN HOUR OUT OF OUR WAY TO ATTEND THIS THEATER.

Next, the candy supply at this theater was abysmal. They had tops, 8 candy choices. And among those were fruit snacks and raisins (not Raisinettes, ACTUAL raisins), so I'm pretty sure those don't even count. I'm not much of a candy eater. It's a rare day that I ever eat movie theater candy. But I was trying to make the most of my no-diet holiday. So on this day, they let me down. Big time.

Problem #3, the theater had NO HEAT. I'm not joking. It was nearly as cold in the theater as outside. I hadn't brought gloves, and I was sorry. My hands were like ice and I had to wrap them up in my scarf to keep them warm. My nose, the only area outside my hood (yes, I was wearing a hood IN the theater) and exposed to the air, got redder and colder throughout the movie. By the end, my teeth were actually chattering. My husband, the human heater, was even freezing, despite his new stay-puffed coat. And as we looked around in the theater, everyone was huddled close together with their coats heaped on top of them like blankets.

And then as we were leaving the theater, we overheard a man talking to the manager and ticket girl about the fact that she wouldn't honor his movie passes. And so they let him use them!

At that point, we decide to let the manager know how awful our experience had been. And when I told him there had been no heat in our theater, he asked which movie we'd attended. "Avatar 3D," I said. "3D?" he asked, "Not the regular one??" Rough translation: Oh. I knew the heat wasn't working in the regular theater, but not the 3D one too.

What a piece-of-crap theater. You can be sure I will never, ever go there again. Not even for free tickets. And should they find a few boxes of nasty Snow Caps stuffed with C4 in their concession stand, I don't know anything about them.

(And despite all that, Avatar was still absofreakinglutely AMAZING. See it. See it NOW. And be sure to go to the 3D. It's unbelievable.)

Where's Oscar When You Need Him?

Guess what? It's time for a good old rant! Haven't had one in a while. But today I feel moved and motivated to let my opinions fly.

Today's subject? The Trash Man.

The Scenario: Yesterday was trash day. I took the trash out in the morning, like I always do. A couple hours later, I came home from running errands and noticed that my trash can was tipped over. It was a windy day, so it must have blown backwards. As I straightened it up, I saw that it was still full, so I left it on the curb. Later that day I noticed that most of the cans on the street had been pulled back in. I went to get mine....still full.

So I called Allied Waste today to tell them that my can had been skipped. She had no idea why this would be. Then I asked about the tipped can. If it was tipped, would the trash man just skip it? Oh yes, she said. That was policy. The trash man was not allowed to get out of the truck and straighten it up. Too dangerous.

TOO DANGEROUS? For the last hundred years since trash trucks have been around, the trash man got OUT of the truck, picked up the heavy trash can with his bare hands, and heaved the contents into the truck. But now, in this age of technology and scientific sophistication, it's now too dangerous for a man to step out of his truck and straighten the can so the truck's mechanical arm can pick it up??? Yeah. Sure. I mean, he might trip on his shoelace and fall under the wheels of the truck and the truck might go into gear by itself and drive forward by itself and run him over. OR the man might accidentally fall INTO the trash can as he's straightening it, and the truck might somehow pick the can up while the man is inside and dump him into the truck's belly. Or, heaven forbid, the trash man might sprain his pinkie while straightening the trash can. We can't have that, now can we? Yes, I see as I examine the situation that this really is a highly dangerous job. The trash man is much better off staying in the safety of his cab he isn't at risk for doing serious bodily damage.

Good thinking, Allied Waste. Thanks for saving the lives of countless trash men.


(I know I probably have much too high of expectations for someone who picks up trash for a living, but seriously, I've never seen such low standards for a public service job. EVER.)

There, now I feel better.

Going The Extra Mile

I know I've ranted commented on the state of customer service these days at least once or twice before, but I got a new one today that I thought was noteworthy.

So first the background. I got an iPod Touch for my birthday. And after dropping it once or twice, I decided it would be wise to get some sort of skin for it, to protect it. Also, Big Daddy has an iPod Touch, so the skin would also serve to differentiate the two. When I searched on Amazon, I found a skin I liked, and it came with a screen protector and neck strap too. I thought the screen protector was a good idea. And the neck strap, well, I couldn't think of a specific use, but I thought perhaps it might come in handy. So I ordered the trio. It came in about a week. The skin was about as I'd expected. The screen protector was much too wily for me and I couldn't get it on without bubbles. But that was my bad. Then came the neck strap. I opened it up and then picked up my iPod to attach it. Hmmmm...where does it go? There was no place on the skin to attach it, and the skin wasn't tight enough anyway. That kind of pull would have detached the skin right away. And I couldn't find anywhere in the iPod itself to wrap the little cord around. I turned it over and over, but nothing presented itself. So I fired off this email to the company I bought it from (via Amazon) called bestpricecenter.com:

Hi, I received an iPod touch skin and neckstrap from you. However, I cannot figure out where or how to attach the neckstrap to the iPod. Can yougive me help with this? Thank you.

-Arianne Thompson

And here is the response I got back today...

Dear Customer,

Your I-pod should have some kind of hook on it. You can hook up the neckstrap on the hook.

Thanks,

customer service team

Bestpricecenter.com

So what you're telling me is, you have a whole TEAM of people in your customer service center, and yet none of you know if my iPod Touch has a hook. It should, but you're not really sure. And rather than investigate this product you sell and how, exactly, it works with the product you have sold it for, you just sent me off a notice saying that, if the hook exists, I should be able to hook the neck strap to it. THANKS. Thanks a TON! Wow, that was brilliant logic. I am so impressed, not only with the spectacular design of the product (which may or may not actually attach to my product), but also your amazing powers of deduction. And you have really impressed me with your interest in my problem and making things better. By the way, my name isn't "Customer." It's "Arianne Thompson" as I said in my letter to you. But then, actually addressing your email to me would have required you to look at the original email, and looking for things is, we both know, not your strength.

Well, never fear, I'll keep looking for that elusive hook on my iPod. And when I find it, rest assured, your neck strap will not be on it. It's already in my local landfill. Thanks for nothing.

Dr. Dontlittle

I hate the zoo.

(There, I said it. )

This is pretty hard for an animal lover like me to admit. But it's true. I finally just realized it today. I always thought I liked the zoo, but I think I have just been brain-washed into thinking I did. Because today, after taking my kids to the zoo, I had the decidedly strong feeling that I don't want to do that again for a LONG LONG time.. I hope my kids didn't have that great of a time, either, because they're not likely to see the zoo again until they're getting ready to go to college. Or untiil I suffer enough short-term memory loss to forget how much I hate going to the zoo.

I liked the zoo as a kid. We went to the Detroit Zoo often, a large and well-done zoo, I thought. And I liked the zoo as a young adult. I didn't go often, but when visiting my nieces and nephews (prior to having my own kids), I always liked to take them. But since having my own kids, I've begun to realize that the zoo sucks. I'm not sure if it's all zoos or just the Hogle Zoo. I really think it's just zoos in general. But here is why I hate the zoo:

1) It's a lot of pushing around strollers and lifting up kids. Trying to keep track of them, keep them from running off, keep them from eating the duck food that is left in the duck food dispensers that look all too much like gumball machines. Keeping them from knocking on every single snake enclosure. Keeping them from drinking the swan pond water. Keeping them from becoming human experiments as to just how domesticated the bears really are. It's tiring.

2) It's hot. You would think mid-60's was perfect zoo weather. I have thought that for at least the last 3 times I've gone. But it's not. It's way too hot for the zoo. All the walking, pushing, retrieving, and yelling at of kids causes your body temperature to rise an addition al 15-25 degrees, making the mid-60's feel more like the low 100's, which is, obviously, an insane temperature to walk around the zoo in. You would think I would have learned my lesson by now. But clearly I haven't. Every time it cools down in the fall or warms up in the spring, I think "Hey, the weather is perfect for the zoo!" and I go there to roast myself. AGAIN.

3) The animals are bums. They're just plain lazy, underachievers. I'm sorry, but it's the truth. I've never seen such a slovenly, boring, anti-social group of animals. Don't they know that monkeys are supposed to swing around on those plastic vines and hollar at the visitors? Don't they know that snow leopards are supposed to leap through the enclosure and roar? Don't they know that crocodiles are supposed to slither along the concrete rivers, ripping fish and ducks to shreds? Don't they know that elephants are supposed to lift up those big fiberglass logs and toss them in the pond? And don't the penguins know that that it is typical penguin behavior to actually ENTER the water, not stand around on the paper mache rocks right outside the zoo keeper door waiting for him to come back??? Seriously, someone needs to work on teaching the animals how to be more entertaining.

4) Zoos are way too p.c. these days. I'm sure Mr. Tiger really enjoys his ergonomically, ecologically, zoologically correct grassy highland habitat. But it sucks for me. All it gives me is nice wide view of trees and weeds. Trees, weeds, and the underwater viewing area that Mr.Tiger has surely never set one tiny part of his paw in. But by all means, keep pleasing P.E.T.A., but in 10 years when every zoo animal has an enclosure that looks just like Kenya, the ailses of the zoo will be a ghost town. And then they'll have to close all their doors and send all the animals to the circus and the glue factory. Mr.Tiger will be SO happy jumping through hoops of fire, I'm sure. In the meantime, I'll just point out yet another furry blob in the darkest corner of the enclosure and try to convince my child it is a real animal, just a different color than the last furry blob.

5) There are no plastic lids or straws allowed at the zoo. ARE THEY KIDDING ME??? The zoo is a place for CHILDREN. Children need lids and straws. I'm sorry. So the animals might choke on a straw. But I paid $28 for that zoo t-shirt and I don't want it covered in Hawaiin Punch 3.5 seconds after giving my child a lidless drink. Come on, zoos. Have some pity on my kids' overpriced clothing!

6) There are no escalators or moving walk-ways. There is a lot of walking at the zoo. And honestly, I would appreciate a little help getting around. In fact, a tram through the zoo, or something like those jeeps on Jurassic park, would be a great improvement on the whole zoo experience.

In conclusion, let me just say that I really do like animals. But if they're going to lay around being lazy, and stay in dark corners, and not make a single sound all day, and if the zoo staff is going to make me eat $12 chicken nuggets with $4 lidless drinks, I think I'll just stay home. There's always the Discovery Channel, right?

25 Things That Bug

I got tagged on a post called 25 Things I Love To Hate. So I started my list. And by the end, it wasn’t so much things I love to hate, as things that bug . So I’ve changed the title a bit. Here goes…

25 Things That BUG THE LIVING CRAP OUT OF ME.

1) People who park badly. Especially when they take up 2 spots on purpose cause their car (usually a big truck) is just way too fancy to get dinged up like the rest of our cars.
2) When the garbage man ALWAYS leaves my garbage knocked over. Would it be too much to ask for you to set it down upright? (Or when stuff flies out on the way up to his truck and he just leaves it in the street. Doesn’t anyone take pride in being a garbage man anymore??
3) When my waiter asks how everything is 20 times during the meal. Just look! If my glass is empty, fill it. If I’m not eating, ask me if I need a box. If I’m not glaring at you or waving my arms at you when you walk past, shut up and let me eat in peace!
4) People driving slowly in the carpool lane. I know I’ve covered this before. But seriously, if you’re going to drive under the speed limit, regardless of your passenger count, the right two lanes were made just for you. Feel free to move on over and drive as slowly as you like.
5) Kids waking up at 6:45 in the morning. Or 7. Or 7:30. Or pretty much any time before 8am. Or actually 9 am. Or , lets be honest, anytime before 10 am really bugs. I need to get a new job where sleeping in is guaranteed benefit.
6) Bird crap on my car. And, unfortunately, there is a tree branch right above my driveway that the birds love to party on and eat purple things on. Ask me how I know.
7) 2pm church
8) My internet going down. I don’t think I approach certifiable madness faster than when my internet goes down.
9) Parents who bring babies and small children to movies and restaurants. I know, you're cheap. But why punish the rest of us?
10) Something stuck in my teeth when I have no access to a toothpick or floss
11) Overcooked steak
12) My pajama pants riding up while I sleep.
13) People who don’t get sarcasm and take everything face value. Especially on my blog. It’s called humor, people. Try it.
14) Burnt out light bulbs, especially up high. Why is changing a light bulb such a huge pain in the butt? Remove those little tiny screws, but just enough that the glass cover doesn’t come falling down and shatter, then dump out all the dead bugs in there, try not to drop the new or old light bulbs while you swap them, all while standing on a wobbly stool….I mean, really. Could they make it any harder??? I really would like to just clap my hands and have it fixed.
15) My kids growing out of their cute clothes and shoes too fast.
16) How the yummiest food always gives you the worst breath
17) Over-toasted toast
18) Being woken up while I’m sleeping. This one awakens the beast like no other.
19) Whining children. Is there some reason why you can’t ask nicely first and THEN whine if you don’t get your way? Starting out with whining is counterproductive, if you ask me.
20) People who don’t return calls (businesses especially. Why they bother to have answering machines, I don’t know.)
21) Gratuitous swearing in movies. Just what I need. Someone yelling the F-word at me for 2 hours.
22) When adults talk to my kids with baby talk. HATE THAT. Like “Awe you hungwee?” Say “hungry!”
23) Exercising a ton and not loosing weight.
24) Employees who don’t look at you or offer any kind of polite greeting or thank you. Even worse when they talk to each other while ringing you up, like you’re not even there. Hello! Customer service? Remember that?
25) The fact that airlines don't give you crap to eat on the planes anymore. Nuts? I have a 5 hour flight over lunchtime and I get NUTS? So out of the whole $400 I paid for this flight, you couldn't allocate $3 for a sandwich or a piece of pizza??? Lazy no good airlines...

After this morning, I decided I had to add another one..
26) Having to dial an area code to call your next door neighbor! Why couldn't they have just divided things geographically? I am so bugged about always having to dial an area code now!!!


What about you? What gets your panties in a knot?


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Top Five Most Dreaded Household Chores EVER

NOT.

These are my most hated household chores:
1. Mopping the kitchen floor.
2. Sweeping the bathroom floor. (tile)
3. Mopping the bathroom floor. (tile)
4. Scrubbing the master bathroom shower (tile). It rubs my knuckles raw trying to get into those rough, grouty corners where that icky orange stuff appears. Do you know what I would pay for some of these, if they really existed??
5. Doing any of the above over again in a 30 day period of time. Yet it keeps on happening. I try to leave these things for Big Daddy to do. And he will mop, bless his heart. He does a fine job of it, too. Even polishes the wood floors in the kitchen with a towel and wood polish. But the rest, they just haunt me.

What about you? What are your most hated household chores?

I Hate Tile

There's not much more to say other than that. I hate tile. More exactly, I hate grout. If tile hadnospacesinbetweenitfordirttogetstuckin, I'd probably like it a lot better. But as it is, with a 1/4 inch grout line of cream colored dirt colored grout, it is nearly impossible to keep clean or to make LOOK clean. Even after it has been swept and mopt to within an inch (make that 1/4 inch) of its life, it is still always grungy looking. In my next house, there will be no tile. There will be hardwood and carpet, stamped cement, and even vinyl flooring if necessary. But until they invent a tile floor where the grout is made of anti-dirt-magnetic material, there will be NO tile in my house. Thank heavens I only have it in two small bathrooms in my house. If I lived in California and it was on every floor AND the countertop, I would have left my husband a widower long long ago. Tile and I don't mix.

One Mom To Another

You know, it's been a while since I've got on and ranted about something that really ticks me off. So..... Yay! Rant time!

People:

....or rather,

Parents:

I don't care if a movie is rated PG. I don't care if it's dark in the theater. I don't care if you paid $8 to see this movie. I don't care if you're sitting in the front 3 rows. I don't care if it's a Tuesday night. IF YOUR BABY IS CRYING DURING THE MOVIE, TAKE HIM OUT!!!! For Pete's sake, no one else wants to hear your baby fuss and cry. WE all paid $8 to see the movie, too. In fact, why not GET A FREAKING BABYSITTER?! WE all paid for babysitters. Do you think I am paying my babysitter $5/hour so I can come to the movie and listen to YOUR baby cry? Well, I'm not. And yes, we CAN hear your baby (in case you are somehow deluding yourself into thinking that the movie is drowning little Johnny out). And yes, he IS disturbing us and ruining our evening out (in case you are somehow deluding yourself into thinking that everyone else LIKES the sound of Johnny's cries). I do realize that paying a babysitter is expensive. But it is just plain discourteous to everyone else to think that the hard earned money they spend for a peaceful night out is less valuable than the hard-earned money you spend for a night out (which isn't even a peaceful one because of precious Little Johnny). so let me make a few suggestions to you: 1) Rent a movie. Put your kids to bed and enjoy it in peace and quiet. Cost - $5. 2) Swap babysitting nights with a friend or neighbor so no money need be paid out. Cost - free. 3) Go to a matinee when everyone else there has little kids too. Cost - less than an evening show. 4) If your baby is fussing and crying and bugging everyone, take him out to the lobby. If this means missing too much of the movie, get rain checks and come back to see the movie another time. Without the baby. Cost - only the cost of gas to drive back another day. 5) Save up for another week so you can afford the movie AND the babysitter. Cost - yes, more than not paying for a babysitter. But the appreciation of everyone around you at the movie will be.... priceless.

This narrative was inspired by real events, involving real people and real movie theaters. Any similarity to people real or fictional is intended. Incidentally, Bedtime Stories is really cute. The part that I could hear, at least.

A Bed Less Ordinary

Everyone, please tell me if you are one of the 329 million Americans who prefers to sleep on a slab of cement rather than a bed. Hands? Anyone? No? That's strange. Because the bed at my hotel this weekend would lead me to believe otherwise. The bruises on my hips and shoulders would lead me to think that most Americans actually prefer pain and discomfort as they drift in and out of sleep. No? So most of you actually like some fluff to your bed, something soft? Something, dare I say it, comfortable? A pillow top even? Or is that taking beds to an extreme amount of comfort? I only ask because 9 times out of 10 when I stay in a hotel, even a very nice, expensive hotel, I find that the beds are about like sleeping on the floor. Just with sheets. And this weekend, when Big K and I took a little romantic getaway to The Big City and stayed in a FOUR STAR HOTEL, was no exception. The pillows were feather. The furniture was rich dark wood. The bathroom had marble counter tops and a jacuzzi tub. But the bed was about like a hospital bed. Minus the mattress. Seriously, that bad. In fact, the bed was so bad that--I kid you not--we got up (I don't say "woke up" because neither of us had slept a wink yet) at 1:30 am, packed up, and WENT HOME to sleep on our own normally soft bed. That's how bad it was. So I just want to know, what is the deal? Who are these bajillions of travelers who prefer this kind of torture when they travel? Because me? I like to be able to actually sleep in my hotel. It's kind of, you know, the point. And the next day, I prefer to be able to wake up and walk without an adjustment at the chiropractor first. But maybe that's just me. Maybe I'm the odd man out. Maybe I am just expecting way too much from a bed. If so, do tell so I can stop setting myself up for disappointment with such ridiculous, frivolous expectations.

Economic Pick-me-up

It's nice to know that in this time of financial instability and doomy economic forecasts that our tax dollars are hard at work.

For example, the city hired out a construction company to do put in new high pressure irrigation in our city. Well, they finished on my street about 3 weeks ago. And yet this truck still goes up and down my street a couple of times an hour brushing all the dust up into the air.



And then this truck comes along and sprays it all back down to the ground.

A few hours later, the dust is dry and they can begin again.


Thanks for helping out, AF City. It's comforting to know that you are making the most of our resources while times are tough.

Peeing Scared

You know what makes me so scared I almost get stage fright and can't pee? Restaurant bathrooms that are only one room--no stalls--right off the main dining room. Because those kind of bathrooms ALWAYS have the kind of door locks that are a little button you push in on the handle. That kind of lock just doesn't say "security" to me. You can't jiggle the handle to check that it is locked, because the mechanism that makes it unlock is turning the handle. And they only go in an imperceptible amount when you push them so that there is no really clear sign that they are locked. So you have to pull down your pants and face the door that opens directly into the dining room and pray with every fiber of your being to the Almighty God that no one will try to open the door while you're using the bathroom. Because even if that door lock holds when they try to open it, which I'm always sure it won't, it still will give you a heart attack when the handle jiggles from the outside. WHY CAN'T RESTAURANTS JUST PUT A NICE BIG SLIDING BAR OF METAL ON THE DOOR THAT CAN'T BE BUSTED OPEN WITHOUT CALLING THE FIRE DEPARTMENT? And, get this, I ate at a restaurant the other day that had the stall-less ladies room opening directly onto the dining area AND IT HAD A SMOKED GLASS WINDOW ON IT!!! Are you freaking kidding me??? I held my bladder for an additional 15 minutes and then missed the first 4 minutes of my movie just so I wouldn't have to go pee pee in that bathroom from hell. People, seriously. Is this bathroom thing so hard?

Service Without a Smile

Can I just bitch for a second? What is it with these days and customer service? Or a lack thereof? Why is it you can't get anyone who is serving you in a store to actually talk to you, say "How are you today?" "How can I help you?" or even "Thank you?" They are fine to talk to EACH OTHER while they should be giving you customer service, but not to actually talk to you, the customer. Has it gotten worse lately, or am I just getting old and crotchety enough to notice?

I'll give you an example. I was exchanging something at Wal-Mart today and this was how it went down:
Me: Hi, I need to exchange this lipstick.
Lady: _______________________
A few second later, Me: Here is the reciept.
Lady: ________________________
30 seconds later, Me: They stopped making my favorite color so I'm trying to find a replacement shade.
Lady: Oh, I see you're drinking a small Mt.Dew today!
(No, she was not talking to me. She was talking to another employee who was sitting on a bench in the customer service area, taking her lunch break.)
Lady (to me this time): Is there anything wrong with it?
Me: No, just not the right color.
Lady: _________________________
30-45 seconds later, Lady: The difference is 36 cents.
I start looking for some change as the lady carries on a converation with other employee over my shoulder.
I hold out the money.
She takes it.
She holds out my bag.
I take it.
I wait for any comment from this lady.
I look right at her waiting for a "here you go" or "thank you, come again."
Nothing.

I ALMOST said, "Jolene, no offense but you seriously need to work on your customer service skills. Try talking to your CUSTOMER instead of the other employee." But I didn't. There was a line of about 8 people behind me and I'm sure they wouldn't have appreciated me dilly-dallying. But I was so ticked. Not a single word of friendly banter. And she wasn't 17 either. She was in her late 40's--she should have known better. I know what you're thinking, it was Wal-mart, what do I expect from the dregs of society. But that was only typical of the service you get just about anywhere these days. Employees can't be bothered to actually smile, say please or thank you, or actually make small-talk with their customers. But they have NO problem chit chatting with each other while they "help" you. They can talk to the person behind or in front of them in the next check stand like you're not even there, but heaven help them if they have to stop long enough to say "here you go" when they hand you your reciept. I even had a guy at Costco a few weeks ago complaining, right there in front of me, to another employee about how crazy the last customer had been. He went on and on about how the guy wanted to check out without his membership card and how that was so not the way Costco works, etc. I'm sorry, but that is SO tacky to talk badly about a customer IN FRONT OF the next customer. TAKE IT TO THE BREAK ROOM, PEOPLE! Again, I just about found the manager to say, You need to teach your employees how to talk to their current customers, not each other. And especially if they have something bad to say, they need to deal with it privately, not in front of all the other customers. But again, I didn't. Should I have? Do we need to collectively stand up to these terrible employees? Or is it just me? Is anyone else bugged by the disintigration of customer service lately?

Restroom Rant

Who the heck gave men permission and materials to build women's restrooms??? They have no clue what they are doing! I can't even tell you how many pulbic restrooms I've been in where it was like a 6 year old designed them and a 5 year old put them together. Here are a few of my gripes:

1) The most obvious is doors that won't stay shut or locked. First you have to build the pieces so they are parallel to each other. If you put the sides up at an angle that leans in towards each other, the door won't close. Hmmm. Tough one, I know. And it doesn't seem like it would be that hard to design a bathroom door lock that would hold the door closed and also last longer than a month. But it seems like 50%+ of bathroom doors are either missing a lock, have a lock that doesn't work, or worst, has a lock that works but doesn't line up with the other half of the lock! Who put that one together? Daffy Duck?

2) I hate it when there is nowhere to hang or set your purse. We are WOMEN. Women=purses. So there has to be a hook, shelf, or something for your purse. Otherwise you have to pee with it on your lap because you are sure as heck not setting your purse down on that filthy floor.

3) I hate it when you open the door to the stall, and the toilet paper dispenser is right there inside the door. So as you try to squeeze your way in between the toilet and the wall so you can get the door shut behind you, you bash your thigh against the toilet paper dispenser. RETARDED. Freaking put the dispenser on the opposite side of the stall where it is out of the way!

4) I also hate it when the dispenser is put in a stupid spot. The most common stupid spot is when it is approximately 6 inches off the ground. So then when you unwind the roll to get the toilet paper off, it trails all over that disgustingly dirty floor. You could try to hold the end of it with one hand as you unwound it with the other hand, but you can't because your free hand is being used trying to keep the purse on your lap from falling in the toilet. Other stupid spots include behind you where you have to be a contortionist to reach it and not fall off the toilet, and too far in front of you to reach without being Elastigirl.

5) It bugs me when someone has put a sign up that says "Please deposit your sanitary napkins in the recepticle." Who has ever in their whole life called them "sanitary napkins?" Just say "pads" since that's what they are.

6) Now lets move on to the sink area. My biggest pet peeve here is when there is no paper towel dispenser. Hand dryers are loud, slow, and ineffective. And it would be extra nice if the paper towel dispenser would dispense more than a 3 inch strip at a time.

7) I don't understand how so many people can be so messy at the sink. Ever tried to set your purse down next to the sink? Not possible. There is a huge lake next to each sink. Are people sponge bathing in these sinks? What's up with that amount of water next to each one?

8) It makes me roll my eyes when the sink's water is turned on by an automatic hand sensor, but then you have to put your dirty hands on the dirty soap dispenser to get the soap out. That makes sense.

9) Lastly, it irritates me when the papertowels are only on the ends of the sink row where only the people washing their hands in those two end spots can get to the paper towels. The rest of us have to stand there behind them with dripping hands, patiently waiting for them to finish while not trying to seem like we're rushing them.

You wouldn't think, after people have been using public bathrooms since public everthing has existed, that it would be so hard to create a bathroom that makes sense. But evidently, all the men in the bathroom building profession have never actually used one before, nor do they know any women who have ever used one. They're a bunch of single guys, sitting around, who suddenly say to themselves one day, "I'm good with Lincoln Logs; I think I'll go build a bathroom!"

What are your restroom pet peeves?